Re-Start

Sorry it's been a while. I look back now upon the last two or three months and wonder what was I so busy doing? I can't remember being that swamped, but I know at the time I was ready to claw my eyes out. Now it all seems rather silly. And I'm sure it will happen all over again in a couple of months...

The year ended rather well. There were lots of holiday concerts--far too many if you ask me--there were tins of baked goods--not nearly enough if you ask me--and most importantly there were monkeys getting Christmas presents.

Some other cool stuff happened along the way, namely a great trip to Europe. But first I give to you Presents for Primates.

Low-Maintenance Or Dirty?

The Amazing Race didn't give me the same warm-fuzzies last night that I usually get while watching the show. Several moments made me particularly uncomfortable, particularly the marching band and the wrestling scenes. Normally, the show does a decent job of finding something unique to the location and presenting it in the most positive light possible. Last night I thought they made the locals look like asses. Really? The coolest thing you can come up with in La Paz is to perform staged wrestling moves? How sad.

But I was already irritated from a scene that occurred early in the show. The contestants reached Bolivia before dawn, and without proper accommodations, they were asked to camp in a plaza next to a statue of Simon Bolivar. As soon as the sun rose, the campers began their morning rituals.

I was shocked. Here they were in a public square treating it as if they were in their own bedrooms. Men were shaving with electric razors, while women were applying full-on war paint. Foundation, mascara, several colors of eyeshadow, the works. I know they're going to be on television so perhaps they want to add a little color, but I found this ridiculous. "You're traveling around the globe as fast as you can. You're sweating bullets, sleeping very little, and arguing with your partner for all the world to see. Will makeup really help?"

But then I started to get a bit more realistic. In humid weather, my crazy curly hair harkens back to Halloween costumes unless I employ the help of a little hair gel. I love the smell of vanilla, and even when I'm camping I like to have that dab of lotion to make me feel a bit softer, a bit girlier. I don't travel with a lot of jewelry, but I do wear earrings and a watch daily and sometimes a small bracelet.

I could do without the jewelry--except for my rings and a watch--and the vanilla lotion. The hair gel? I'm not sure I can give that up, for fear of scaring children. My question to you is this: when you're on a long trip and you're trying to pack light, what are those non-essential things that you still pack just so you can feel like you?

Like A Chump

Marc and I are going to Paris over the winter holidays. We both speak limited Spanish and I know a trace of German and Italian (thanks music training!). Unfortunately, neither of us can speak a lick of French.

With a little more than two months still to prepare, I decided to make the most of my hour commute each morning. I bought "Learn French In Your Car!" The title is hokey, but I was attracted to the idea that the program was geared to the aural learner. I was also attracted to the reasonable price tag, considerably cheaper than that of, say, Rosetta Stone.

I was so excited yesterday when I decided it was going to be My First Day Of French. The course I purchased contains fifteen lessons. The first few are very basic and practical: Modes of transportation; Simple phrases and greetings, "Important" words (toilettes is very important).

Usually I keep a strict code for myself when I get a new CD and force myself not to skip around and instead to listen straight through. I couldn't resist, though...I wanted to learn how to order a meal. I decided to skip through the tracks for a quick sneak preview.

And that's when my purchase began to feel like something you'd expect to see advertised in a Saturday Night Live skit.

(chime) "Lesson Six: Numbers" (skip ahead)
(chime) "Lesson Seven: More Numbers" (skip ahead)
(chime) "Lesson Eight: Big Numbers" (skip ahead...seriously? why didn't they just put all the numbers together in one lesson...)
(chime) "Lesson Nine: Very Big Numbers" (What?!! are you kidding me?! @#$%$&*(#@)

Four out of fifteen of these lessons are just numbers. My husband, the king of moral support, reassured me by mentioning that you never know when you'll need to order 30,000 baguettes.

But the Very Big Numbers? They only go up to 99.

Haste Makes Waste

I have many happy memories of the summer of 1996. It was the summer before my junior year of college, and my family spent several days at the Atlanta Olympics. We saw some inspiring athletics, had lots of laughs, and enjoyed the opportunity to spend time together without school or jobs to get in the way.

Unfortunately, there is one memory of that adventure which my brother and sister will not let me forget. Ever. We were all standing in the MARTA station waiting to get on the subway. The place was packed with people, many of them from other countries, and it was hot, dark, and deafening in that station. After a long sweaty day at Track and Field and Baseball, we just wanted to get back to our parked station wagon and head home.

My dad was no exception. Like the rest of us, he was eager to get out of the city and into a cold drink. Impatience got the best of him and when the next train rolled into the terminal, my father charged through the throngs of people in order to climb aboard. What he failed to do was read the sign and realize the train was headed in the direction we didn’t want to go. Worried that my family would be separated (this was before cell-phones) I raced after Dad, grabbed his arm, and yelled at him to stop. He was determined to make that train, and after I grabbed and yelled a few more times and my family didn’t follow him, we had a knock-down drag-out fight in the middle of the MARTA station. Dad was pissed thinking we had missed the train, and I was pissed that he wasn’t listening to me. Mixed with thirst and fatigue, it was a terrible combination and we both showed our worst sides as a result.

I remembered our family blow-out as I watched this week’s episode of The Amazing Race. So many times these teams run into trouble simply because they don’t stop for a second and collect themselves. One brief moment to re-read a clue, listen to a partner, or ask for help would solve so many problems. Twice the divorced girls made huge blunders just because they were being careless. The southern blondes, the fratties, and the brother and sister team all drew blanks as they stared at the wall of phrases. People lost their tempers and their logic, but in the end what they lost the most was time. All that rushing around and scheming to get the first cab ultimately didn’t help them a bit.

When you travel, you’re undoubtedly going to encounter something stressful and maybe totally unfamiliar. Just take a minute, breathe, and think before you find yourself hopping on the wrong train.

Favorite Quotes:
"They didn’t even say HI to us!"
The cute African-American girl: "Our faces don't get red."
"I don’t mind playing dirty as long as I'm the one that benefits from it."
"Girls from South Carolina are not stupid. We might be a little slow but we’re not stupid."
"I have a lot of things in my life to be thankful for. I have my health, I have my parents, I have my looks, and I have Stephanie."

Pay It Forward

Julie is one of my favorite people. You'll like her too.

Julie

• speaks Spanish.
• is originally from South Carolina.
• loves to travel and does it often.
• is a fantastic writer and editor.
• puts others before herself, as you will gather from the following news...

Months ago, Julie and her husband started a project with some teens in Colombia. They've been slowly teaching the students about writing and videography for the Internet. These kids are putting together some terrific stories about their home and posting them on the web so others can learn about life in Mompox, Colombia.

A project like this requires equipment and some supervision. Julie's been collecting donations on her website, but it's slow-going. Recently she came up with a brilliant idea that will hopefully earn a bit more money for the Voices in Mompox operation.

In return for your small donation to the project, Julie and Francisco will let you stay in their awesome Mexico City apartment --rent-free! Give just a little money to the kids of Colombia, and you can be chilling in some swanky digs in Mexico, walking the same streets as Che Guevara and Frida Kahlo, and munching on tortillas you could never find this side of the border.

Go learn more about Julie and the kids. You will be impressed.

The Amazing Race 13, Week 1

I know some people complain about The Amazing Race because it shows us as “ugly Americans.” I disagree. We’re not all “ugly Americans,” and some of the contestants on the show are considerate, kind, and thoughtful to the people they encounter. Then there are some that show the ugly side, and admittedly, I find those raw, hideous behaviors very entertaining.

I also love watching the teams either bond or break during the stresses of The Race. I’m a big believer in traveling with a partner—when I know that partner and his or her travel style. Each season, some of the Amazing Race teams are made of either people who haven’t traveled together much, or worse, people who haven’t know each other very long. I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a cab with them, but it makes for excellent televiewing. I think a couple that recently started dating might benefit from a trip together, but maybe they should start with a 4-day weekend in Maine rather than a nationally televised trip around the world. And the estranged couple from Tampa (I promise we’re not all like this!) should be working their issues out with a marriage counselor, not an American Airlines ticket agent.

Nevertheless, you can bet I’ll be watching.

Some random thoughts:
*Most girls from South Carolina can be classy without wearing pearls everyday. They are insane. I don’t own pearls, and I even know about Beethoven and shit. I got yer classy right here.
*I’m surprised to see the beekeepers on this show. I wonder if they even own a TV.
*How will the Tampa lady keep her hair bleached throughout the month-long trip?
*If I could ever convince my sister to do this, I can assure you we would not be wearing matching outfits.

Favorite quotes:
*The Tampa women to her sorta husband, in Brazil: “You were supposed to know how to do the Spanish.”
*Terence, the running coach to his new girlfriend Sarah: “Can you not outrun me? I appreciate your speed, but you have lapped me every time.”
*Terence, again, tearing the girlfriend down: “You can’t climb and talk.”
*Beekeeper lady: “Bees are much calmer than all of this!”

Slippery Customer

I am generally not a wimp. I have a high pain threshold, I am independent and have no trouble doing things alone, and I will ride the most ferocious roller coaster out there and most likely laugh through the whole trip.

But I do have one pretty significant fear--things that creep and crawl, specifically in my house.

I will go way beyond the call of duty to move a snail to a safer place or put a Daddy Longlegs spider where no one will step on him. If he's outside. But when creatures start embarking on my territory without paying rent, well, I get pretty upset.

With stints in Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida, I understand that the occasional roach will probably sneak inside. Don't get me wrong: I HATE them, but you learn to accept them as a part of life when you live in a hot and humid region. (The more genteel southerners call them "Palmetto bugs." They are in denial, and these are usually the same people who refer to the Civil War as "The War of Northern Aggression.")

What I never expected to face are the small lizards that continually appear in our Florida house. I see lizards everywhere; some are a dull brown, blending in with the sand, while others are a bit more colorful and much more animated, flaunting their throat flaps and doing push-ups to impress the ladies. Outside they're cute; I get a kick out of watching them scurry, convinced that I don't see them. But when they're scurrying up my bathroom wall or doing those push-ups on the bedroom carpet? I'm not amused.

Together, Marc and I have rescued at least three lizards this summer, usually by cornering them with Rubbermaid containers and then quickly ushering them out the front door. (It's great family fun, almost as much fun as pulling the sand spurs out of the yard!) Last night, however, as I reached for a measuring cup, my life flashed before my eyes as a two-inch-long critter leapt from my spice rack and raced away. I don't know where he is now, but I can tell you I probably won't sleep much until I find him.

So. Who wants to come over for dinner?

Feel The Heat!

I know all about being a loser.

I have always been a sports fan, and although I’ve moved around a bit, I’ve always tried to embrace my home team. Even when they stink.

And they usually do. I loved my time at The University of South Carolina, but the Brad Scott years were painful to watch. Later I moved to Cincinnati and was cursed with all kinds of bad teams: the Bearcats (they’re good now, but back then…), the Bengals, and the Reds were just terrible. Nevertheless, they were my new “home” teams, so I cheered with gusto, to no avail.

After living in South Carolina for four years, I moved down to St. Petersburg, Florida last summer. I was delighted to once again be living in a major league baseball city. I was less delighted to discover that the Tampa Bay Devil Rays truly sucked. I sat through some horrendous baseball, each night hoping to see some progress, some glimmer of hope. It never came.

But then the 2008 season began. What seemed impossible last summer began to happen—the Rays started to win some games. A new team name, a couple of important trades, and some critical calls to the minors, and the Tampa Bay Rays gradually earned everyone’s attention.


It’s been a treat to watch this team succeed. They’re an unusual story, from the wine-drinking articulate manager to the quirky catwalk-filled dome, to the players themselves and their consistently laid-back “one day at a time” attitude. Although they’re a young bunch, the chemistry is there, and they’re getting it done. I sat in a sold-out crowd Wednesday night, watching as angry Red Sox fans scratched their heads, wondering how this happened.

I don’t have an answer. But I’m very happy for them, and I’m excited that when they most likely clinch their first-ever playoff spot tonight, I’ll be rooting for my home team.

Opa!

Recently I've found myself going through travel withdrawal. I'm back in the full-time teacher groove now, which makes it even more evident that it will be a while before I take a "real" trip again. The past two weekends I've noticed myself growing more and more twitchy, so yesterday I decided I'd better get a fix.

I headed up Hwy 19 to a small town called Tarpon Springs. I have wanted to visit this little fishing village for quite a while, but never carved out the time for it. I'm glad I finally had a lazy afternoon that allowed me to browse the shops and eat a wonderful dinner.

Tarpon Springs lies on the Gulf Coast just north of Clearwater. Although there is a small beach at Howard Park, the town doesn't feel much like a beach community. You don't see the high rises and surf shops; instead, the streets are lined with beautiful stucco homes and small neighborhood churches.

While I enjoyed strolling through the residential area, I was most interested in the Greek village. In the late 1800s, settlers discovered that money could be made by harvesting live sponges. Greek divers were hired to capture the sponges, and over time the town was influenced heavily by the Mediterranean immigrants. Today, the docks are lined with shops selling sponges, loofahs, olive oil, and shells. A number of Greek restaurants and bakeries also fill the air with fragrant lamb and baklava.

Not in the mood to be a tourist, I passed on the aquarium and the free movie at "Sponge-o-Rama." I had a great time watching the boats, though, and my gyro platter was delicious. I'm looking forward to visiting again in the colder months when the manatees make the Springs their winter home.

Shameful Self-Promotion

Many of you know that my parents brew their own beer, thanks to a very lame kit my siblings and I bought them for Christmas about ten years ago. My husband and I also caught the brewing bug, and we love it, although we're still new at this.

We are not, however, new at sampling the malty nectar of the gods. We love beer, and more importantly, we love good beer. The kind you can't see through.

Any aspiring travel writer has heard the advice: when you're starting out, write what you know. So most of my newbie stuff has been about Florida (my current home), South Carolina (my original home), and food (who doesn't love food?).

Now I bring you Beer. Please read it, and if you have anything to say, please do that, too! If your city isn't on the list, lemme know and perhaps I'll do a feature next time.

I'm very excited. This is my first real by-line. My husband is a professional sportswriter and has long numbed at the sensation at seeing his name in print; I on the other hand have butterflies and I'm tickled pink to know that, with this tiny step in the right direction, there are possibilities.

Thanks for your support.

Leaving My Footprint

I'm not a very good friend to the environment.

I try, but I could try much harder. Sure, I recycle, and I try not to leave lights on, and I do all my laundry on the cold setting. But there's so much more I could probably doing. And I feel incredibly guilty about my hour-long commute to work each day.

Today I did something. In the grand scheme of things, it was tiny, but it was at least an effort. I had some work done on my car, and the shop called to tell me my vehicle was ready. Rather than hitch a ride from a friend, bus, or cab (my husband is out of town this week), I decided to travel to the mechanic the old-fashioned way: I ran. Those 2 1/2 miles gave me a chance to explore a couple of side streets, I got a good workout, and hopefully I gave a little hand to Mother Nature.

Beet red and sweating profusely, I also scared the heck out of the cashier at the auto shop, who thought I was about to keel over. But I'd like to think I inspired him a little, too.

Making Lemonade

Hurricane Gustav ruined quite a few Labor Day weekends on the Gulf Coast, but here in St. Petersburg we only had a few hours of pounding rain and wind Sunday afternoon.

By Monday morning only the wind remained. It made it a fairly challenging day to go sea kayaking--the minute we left the sheltered bayou and went out into open water, it was like paddling through tar. It really wasn't all that windy, but when the gusts combined with choppy seas, it took some real elbow grease to get back to our little inlet.

On our way out of Fort DeSoto County Park, we saw some kites off in the distance. We were about five miles away at the time, and without my glasses I thought they were just ordinary kites. I haven't flown a kite in many years and was excited about seeing some families spending their Labor Day together flying kites at the beach.

When we got closer we realized it was a makeshift kite surfing convention. At one time I counted 18 boards skimming across the surf. I overheard a couple of guys complaining that the wind had died down since earlier in the morning, but they seemed to be cruising along just fine to me.

Walking among the kites and watching guys fight with their equipment, I briefly saw the frustrations associated with surfing. But all the cables and nylon disappeared when I looked out and saw the rainbow of sails reflected in the blue water with the Sunshine Skyway as their backdrop. It was a colorful surprise on an otherwise cloudy day.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

This is going to be a long year.



I love teaching. I love the students, I love my subject area, and I have pretty good schools (because I teach orchestra, I travel between 4 schools).



But despite all that, I'm finally ready to try something new. And now that I've made that decision, it makes going to work very difficult. I just want to write, and travel, and take pictures, and explore new options, and see the world, and spend time with my husband, and live with a different schedule for a while. Maybe for a long while, maybe for just a few months, I really don't know. I just know that getting up at 5 every morning in order to go stand under fluorescent lights and fight with administrators who don't think the arts are a beneficial part of the schoolday? That is no longer appealing.



I'm not going to throw in the towel. I will work as hard this year as I have in years past; I owe that to my students. But it's very hard in the meantime to try to do my job and at the same time start laying the groundwork for this next stage. I know people have done it--they're out there now, living that dream they worked so hard to achieve. I just don't know how they found the time to work a regular 8-10 hour day and then research and write and plan on top of it all. School has only been in session since August 8, and already I feel overwhelmed trying to find that balance between the present and the future. I guess if you want it badly enough, you find a way to make it happen.

Read Me

Here are a few cool links for you travel-fans.

• Murphy the Gnome was kidnapped! Turn up your volume and hear his story.



• I had never heard of the Yellow Arrow Project before. I'm not even sure if this is still going on, but it's a pretty cool concept.



• American Airlines is hosting a travel-writing competition. If you've been tossing and turning with a good story rolling around in your head, why not try putting it to paper? The only real catch is that you have to take a photo or two while in an American airport terminal, which may be tricky depending on your travel plans.

Fay Day?!

The mandatory evacuation was rescinded at 5:30 this morning. Although I hated setting the alarm and getting up that early on a day off, it was certainly nice to know that Marc and I would no longer have to fight traffic and try to find a place to stay. We contemplated leaving last night and I'm so glad we nixed that potentially expensive plan.

It's now about 3 PM and, although it's pretty windy, the sun is out and we've only had one short rain shower. I've found myself angry with meteorologists before when they've gotten it wrong, but I'm happy they missed this one. If my husband was off of work tonight, it would be a near-perfect day.

Fay Update

So far no rain and just a mild breeze...nothing to get freaked out about.

Nevertheless, the city has ordered a mandatory evacuation for those of us who reside in "Level A." That means you're either in manufactured housing or you live in a low-lying area (our house). I've packed for 3 days in case I have to go teach Wednesday; my violin, camera, wedding photos, hard drive, and soon computer will be in the car and ready to hit the road. For where, I'm not sure yet.

Hopefully this is all a big overreaction, but I suppose you can never be too careful.

Holding Our Breath

When you train to be a teacher, you learn that the first few days of school are crucial to the success of the whole year. There's even a book and video curriculum--The First Day Of School--that many universities and school districts use in order to encourage methodical planning, establishing procedures, and trying your darnedest to kick things off on the right foot.



So today was the first day of school. And tomorrow we will not be going.



Right now Tropical Storm Fay is looking a bit less menacing than she was earlier today, but the expected winds and rains are enough to merit cancelling classes. I'm not too worried, yet--so far we've only had showers and a nasty sky, but very little wind. The interesting stuff should start happening later this evening; hopefully it won't get too dramatic around here.

A Different Kind of Trip

Most of my travels these days are semi-independent. I scan Marc's baseball schedule, pick out the cities I'd like to experience, see what works with my school calendar, and book a few trips.

Once there, I spend most of my time alone, walking, eating, exploring gardens and museums, and just trying to soak it all in. My school schedule is so rigid and demanding--it is incredibly liberating to have a few days in a cool place when I can do exactly as I choose.

But it's also wonderful to be able to visit a great city and, at the same time, hang out with a few of the best people you know.

I went to Portland, Oregon last week to see my sister Mary and her husband. Fortunately, my husband was also able to meet us there and our quartet had a great time together.

My dad called to ask what we did on our trip. He seemed disappointed when I couldn't give him a laundry list of attractions--we didn't see any movies, visit any museums, or scream at amusement parks. Instead, we saw the city like locals, with locals...over beer and tots, shopping in a used book store, walking the waterfront with no particular aim, and just driving around admiring the lovely bungalows and their perfectly manicured gardens.

And even with the jaw-dropping beauty of Mount Hood, a comforting breakfast at Bumble Kiss, and the calming fragrance of the Rose Garden, there's one memory I'll probably treasure most.

The night we all played Rock Band.

The Thrill Is Gone

I used to love getting on a plane. I don't mean when I was a little kid--when I was a kid my family never flew--but just three, four years ago. I loved the anticipation, knowing I was about to go someplace far away, too far to drive. But I also loved the act of flying--the airport energy, the protocol before taking off, and that funny feeling in my stomach just as we left the ground.

I'm so sad that this has all been replaced with frustration and fatigue.

There was an article in our paper this week about the hassles associated with flying here in America. Interestingly, foreign carriers are providing much better service. It's upsetting to know that it doesn't have to be like this, that there are solutions and in other countries the skies are still friendly.

But I got particularly upset with one point in this story. In trying to justify why European airlines provide some of the niceties no longer seen on our big carriers, David Castelveter explained that American travelers demanded safety, reliability, and lower prices. Supposedly, airlines stripped away the extras in order to meet these demands.

When I flew to Toronto two weeks ago, I planned to leave Tampa at 6 AM, connect in Atlanta for an hour, and arrive in Toronto at about 11:30 AM. I could then share a cab with my husband, have lunch with him, and then walk around town a bit by myself until attending the Rays/Jays game that night.
I reached Atlanta on time, but about an hour after we boarded the plane for Toronto, we were de-planed. There were about 30 empty seats on the plane, and despite the announced "hydraulic leak," I'd bet a 7 dollar lunch voucher that the less-than-full flight had something to do with our little snag.
So the big question...what did they do for us? Not a thing. We all had to race to the Delta counter and ask them to re-book our flights. I am lucky. I was on vacation and disappointed, but it was easy for me to be flexible and change my planes. Some other folks were headed to funerals, important clients, and their children.

My one hour layover suddenly became ten, and I was forced to connect again in Cincinnati before finally reaching my destination at almost 10 PM. I missed my ballgame, two good meals in a cool city, had to pay $60.00 for my own cab, and killed a whole day "traveling." Not my idea of reliable.

I, for one, would jump for joy if I had to bring my own water bottle and granola bar, paid a few bucks to check my luggage, and in return departed and arrived on time.

It's Like This Whole Other Country

I spent most of last week in Toronto, Ontario. I'll post a few real travel stories up here once I get my laundry done and open my mail, but here are a few things that stick out in my mind.

• Canadians care about the environment. Not in the "Oh let's have a story about green vacations in our newspaper" way. They really care, and it shows in their lifestyle. You see bikes everywhere, and the bus and subway systems are efficient. It was totally normal to see people carrying water bottles into restaurants and getting them filled rather than using another glass at their meal. And recycling bins are as common as trash cans; in fact the waste receptacles have separate slots for glass, cans, and litter. No excuses.
• Toronto residents love art. Nearly half of my photographs depict some cool sculpture or building design, and while some of them are installed in high-profile places, plenty of them are on side streets and in residential areas.
• Canadians take their beer seriously. If you're a real beer drinker, Toronto has some outstanding beer bars and even more authentic pubs. I will not be happy until I can find some St. Ambroise Oatmeal Stout down here in Florida, it's one of the nicest brews I've had in a while.
• The people are fabulous. I can be somewhat shy, especially when I'm in a new place and a little less sure of myself. But the friendly faces and warmth, people who seemed genuinely interested in having a conversation...they killed that shyness immediately. I had so many great experiences with the locals, and I know part of that is because I worked a little harder to put myself out there, but most of it is because Toronto is just full of outstanding people. I can't wait to go back.